Calling Card Page 8

  “Who’s up first?” I ask to the crowd of long legs, tight stomachs and perky breasts. Also, to my surprise, there’s an extremely athletic looking man standing in the background wearing nothing but a pair of silk boxers.

  “Dexter, you made it. I was worried you wouldn’t find the location. Henry Chalke,” a plump man wearing an expensive suit introduces himself, walking over to me, taking my hand in a firm shake. Reciprocating the gesture, he looks over my shoulder and stares at Briar. “Is this Briar Kennedy?”

  “Yes, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Your line is beautiful,” Briar responds, giving the man a quick hug and alternating kisses on each cheek.

  “Oh, well this changes everything. Give me a few minutes to rearrange my thoughts. Briar Kennedy. Here. In my warehouse.” Smiling like a child at an amusement park, Henry walks away with a slight pep in his step, shaking his head in disbelief.

  “What was that all about?” Briar asks quietly.

  “Apparently he likes you. I’m not sure what he’s planning, though. Just go along with it, okay. I don’t want to fuck this up.”

  A few moments later, he comes back to where we’re setting up the lighting. “We have a change in plans. I’ve dismissed most of the other models.” Both mine and Briar’s jaws drop.

  “I’m shocked, Mr. Chalke. Those women looked beautiful in your designs. I’m not exactly sure what I’m going to be shooting now.”

  “They were beautiful indeed, but Ms. Kennedy is breathtaking. She’s exactly what I had in mind when I designed this line. Stunning. Curvy. A real woman that attracts real men.”

  I glance over at Briar, who’s looking ill, like she may vomit at any moment. Pulling her into my side, I nudge her with my hip. “Briar hasn’t worked in quite some time. I’m not sure she’ll feel comfortable getting back into the field. However, it’s entirely up to her.”

  I watch Briar tossing around the possibilities in her head; weighing out the decision. It’s a big deal for her … getting back into modeling, if only for this one spread. After a few conversations with her in the past, I know she’s not happy with the shape her body’s in, even if she’s more beautiful today than she was when I first met her. She’s absolutely perfect.

  We all wait with baited breath for Briar to make up her mind and come to a conclusion. After what seems to be hours, her small voice appears and a decision has been made.

  “Can you start with the women you have left and let me think about it a little more?”

  “I can do that, yes. Dexter, if you could get started with Rowan,” Henry says, dismissing me and taking Briar by the hand to sit in two nearby chairs.

  Rowan, a tall, waif thin, dark-skinned woman stands near a dressing table by the window. I direct her to sit on the bench and pivot her torso toward me while her feet are underneath the table. Arching her back, she stares into my lens with a sensual look on her face. This woman’s a pro. I didn’t even have to tell her what to do. This is exactly the kind of model I enjoy working with—someone who knows the industry standards and plays the game.

  Seeing a pair of black stockings and a garter belt on the wardrobe rack, I grab and toss them to Rowan. With the backdrop and dressing table being white, the nighty and panties being white, the black stockings will give excellent contrast. Spotting a pair of red stiletto heels, I place them next to the stool as well.

  I absolutely love when my mind gets in the zone and nothing else matters, except the perfect shot. And perfect this shot shall be. This is going to be the money maker.

  Feeling giddy inside, like a child who’s walked down the stairs on Christmas morning to see a living room full of presents, I give Rowan the directions on what I’d like her to do.

  After bunching the stocking in her hand, Rowan places one over her toes and slowly slides it up her leg. As soon as one is finished, she repeats the process with the other leg, all the while, I’m taking shot after shot. Once both stockings are in place, Rowan stands and shimmies the garter belt up her body, attaching the stockings with the small, dainty clips at the end. One by one, she steps into the heels and turns to face me.

  The money shot I was talking about a few moments ago; this is it.

  “Thank you, Rowan. You did exceptional.” I’m in my element; a nearly unbreakable trance, until Briar’s voice interrupts my thoughts.

  “Okay. I’ll do it. That was amazing to watch. I’d be honored for Dex to photograph me.” Turning to face Briar, the excitement I feel for her is written all over my face.

  “Brilliant,” Henry says, clasping his hands together in front of his face. With his fingers steepled at his mouth and nose, he taps his first digits together. “Wait. I’ll need something else.” He glances around the room, his eyes finally resting on the lone male model in the room. “You,” he exclaims, “You with her. It will be wonderful. Please, get changed.”

  The guy moves toward Briar with a grin on his face. I know what that grin means … he wants in her pants. Feeling this overwhelming sense of male bravado, I speak words I never in a million years thought I would ever say.

  “Let me be in the shot with Briar. Artistically, I think I would suit the image better than this guy,” I say, pointing to the steroids on legs.

  Henry thinks over my proposal, finally nodding his head and tossing me a pair of silk pajama bottoms that match the other guy’s boxers. Looking at the delicate fabric in my hands, I glance up at Briar who’s stifling a giggle. I lied when I mentioned that I think I’d be better, artistically … I just couldn’t fathom another man putting his hands on Briar while I’m in the same room. Especially when she’s going to be wearing sexy lingerie.

  I step into the makeshift changing room after a quick run through hair and makeup, and start disrobing, putting my jeans and button up shirt in a neat pile in the corner. As I slip into the pants, the silk softly flowing around my legs and waist, a little bit of panic begins to set in.

  I’ve never modeled before, but if this is how one feels before baring themselves in front of a camera, I can’t imagine doing it ever again. Thankfully, I have my best friend, who happens to be a former supermodel, here to walk me through this.

  Once I’m situated, checking to ensure that my dick isn’t already getting hard thinking of Briar wearing next to nothing, I stand in front of the mirror. I’ve taken enough pictures of attractive males in my career; I know what most companies find sexy enough to sell their product. Even Henry had a different idea initially about what would sell the men’s line of his designs. Suddenly, I’m becoming overly critical of myself as I compare my stature to those models that are sought after.

  Standing a little over six feet, I’m the right height, but I wonder if I’m muscular enough … if my hair’s too shaggy … if my lips are too thin … if my eyes are too concealed by my narrow lids? I have to remind myself that I am not a model. I’m the furthest thing from it. I’m the man that captures the beauty and elegance of a simplistic scene, not the guy that is a part of that scene.

  Regaining my composure and shoving my self-doubt aside, I make my way out of the dressing area, only to come face to face with Briar. Where I’m wearing a sharp black, it’s the pale pink of her ensemble that starkly contrasts me. I’m the dark and she’s the light. Maybe Mr. Chalke had some common sense after all.

  “You look fantastic,” I say, slowing moving my gaze from Briar’s long, lean legs up to her stomach that doesn’t bear one stretch mark. I continue my journey until my eyes feast upon her magnificent breasts that are pushed up high by the lacy pink bra she’s wearing. Briar’s never been one for tanning, worried about wrinkles and melanoma, but the paleness of the attire against her creamy skin has my mouth watering.

  Henry is a genius and was absolutely right. It’s like this specific pair was specifically made to fit Briar’s body.

  “Thank you. Are you sure, though? I mean, really sure? I feel really awkward.”

  “I wouldn’t ever lie to you. I’m having a hard time over here,” I say, pun most cer
tainly intended. She doesn’t miss my innuendo, glancing down at my crotch, a sly smile crossing her lips.

  “Are we ready?” Henry calls from the studio. Briar and I confirm we’re on our way out. Being a gentleman, I allow Briar to walk in ahead of me so Henry can see exactly how perfect she really is for the job. Okay, maybe not so gentlemanly—I want to watch her ass shift in the high cut panties. It’s a glorious sight. Beautiful enough to bring a man to his knees.

  Quickly, I pull the tripod out of my bag and set it up. I decide to not use the timer on the camera, but allow Mr. Chalke to have access to the remote switch. He won’t have to touch anything and risk screwing with the shot, but have the ability to capture the images he chooses.

  Henry has a bedroom set up for the shoot, and I direct Briar to sit on the bed so I can focus the shot. Through the disguise of my camera, I can really watch her. She claims to be nervous about being so exposed, but through the lens, she tells a different story.

  She’s comfortable … excited even. Not one hair stands on end, no nervous twitch of her muscles, an easy smile on her face. God, she was made for this. Modeling is her calling and she needs to capitalize on it before the industry says she’s not ready, not quitting while still in her prime.

  Moving around the camera, I join Briar on the bed and wait for direction. Usually I’m the one offering the direction, so allowing someone else to do it is a little unnerving, but liberating at the same time. Waiting for Henry, I place my hand on Briar’s knee and squeeze softly.

  “You okay with this?” I ask. Briar looks around the room, smiling and then settles on me.

  “This feels really good. I forgot how much I love modeling. It’s like second nature to be like this. It feels even better that I get to do it with you. Here I am going on and on about how excited I am; how are you doing? I didn’t take you for the model kinda guy. You always seemed more artsy,” she laughs, placing her hand on top of mine.

  “It’s a little strange being on this side of the camera, but I’m good. Just don’t let me fuck it up. I’ll never live it down.”

  Snickering, Briar gives me a few pointers to get me through my first professional modeling shoot. “Follow the director’s lead. Don’t get cocky. Keep your eyes off the camera unless specifically asked to. And have fun. It’s really not that hard.”

  “Dexter, I need you to move up the bed, head by the pillows.” Doing as he requests, I readjust myself, pulling the waistband of the pants down a little so they’re riding off my hips.

  “Ms. Kennedy, can you maneuver yourself on top of Dexter, legs straddling his waist.”

  Without hesitation, Briar follows his direction and Henry seems satisfied with how we’re positioned. When he explains how he wants the scene to unfold, Briar and I stare at each other, almost seeking permission. I nod, followed by one from her.

  Briar leans her body down over mine and nuzzles into my neck. The sound of the shutter surprises me, but I don’t break form. We’re told to roll with it, do what feels natural. Remembering what I’ve told models in the past, I choose to follow his advice.

  Placing my hands on Briar’s hips, I raise my head enough to kiss the base of her throat. She moves slightly, giving me better access. Wrapping my hand in her hair, I tip her head back further, kissing up the long column until I reach her chin, where I don’t stop my exploration. Releasing my grip, she brings her head back down and I capture her lips with mine.

  A tinge of guilt settles in my stomach as I realize I’m taking advantage of this opportunity; placing my wants ahead of everything else, but I can’t help it. I have the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, almost naked, lying on top of me, allowing me access to do the thing I’ve been dreaming of since that night in her apartment. It feels too right … too natural.

  Not receiving any resistance from Briar, I lick the seam of her lips, relishing the taste of her cherry flavored lip gloss until she slightly parts them, allowing me further access. Letting my tongue casually massage hers, my hands leave her hips and find a new home on her firm, toned ass. Kneading her flesh with my fingers, a small mew tries to escape her lips, but I’m there to swallow her moans.

  Feeling myself growing hard beneath her, I raise my hips, showing her how much she’s affecting me, just for her to grind herself down onto me. Groaning, I fight the urge to flip her onto her back, peel off the lace, and give her what she needs to satisfy her craving … my craving.

  Briar’s hands roam inside of my silk robe, grabbing onto whatever she can. I reach up, feeling for the clasp of her bra, needing to feel her bare chest on mine. Just as my fingers work in unison to free her, a voice interrupts me.

  “Excellent. I think I have all I need except for a few stills of Ms. Kennedy alone.” Damn Henry for pulling me out of the greatest session known to man. If this wasn’t a paying gig, or I had many others lined up, I would have told him to kick rocks and continued the path I was on.

  Briar sits back on my waist, concealing my ever present erection, and stares deeply into my eyes. Both of us out of breath, lost in the moment, forgetting we had an audience.

  “Yeah. Okay,” I say, not breaking eye contact with Briar, my fingers slowly trailing down her back. She shivers just before placing her hands on my stomach for leverage, swings her leg over me and sits on the edge of the bed with her palms on her forehead.

  Is she pissed? At me? For getting carried away with me? Worried that it’s her first time modeling in years and she allowed herself to get wrapped up in the passion?

  Sighing before she climbs off the mattress, I feel like doing the exact same thing. As she moves toward the dressing table I photographed Rowan at earlier, she looks back at me, lust and want radiating off of her. She’s just answered my question.

  Briar’s not pissed at anyone; she wanted to go further, to continue forgetting we had anyone else in the room with us. She wants me.

  And I need her. In the worst possible way.

  I dressed quickly and took a few more stills of Briar by herself before the day was over. I receive a pat on the back from Henry and promises of continued business, but I can’t think of anything else right now other than getting Briar back to my hotel room. The way she keeps biting her lip tells me we’re on the same page.

  “I’ll send the magazine the images as soon as I get them uploaded. If you need anything else, please call my office and they’ll coordinate it,” I say to Henry, grabbing my equipment and heading toward the door with Briar quick on my heels.

  Yeah, we’re definitely on the same page.

  Nicholas is waiting at the curb when we make our way outside. He takes everything from me, places it in the car and ushers Briar into the backseat. To try and put some space between us, I opt to sit in the front, which gains me a confused look from Nicholas.

  “Just go with it. Back to the hotel, please.”

  “Yes, sir,” he says, suppressing a laugh.

  “One more time, Nick. Watch what happens,” I warn, not taking my eyes off the road ahead of us.

  Getting back to the hotel is quicker than I thought. I figured I would have more time to contemplate how I’m going to play this out. On one hand, I have access to the Briar Kennedy—sexy model extraordinaire. On the other, I have my best friend, Briar, who I can sleep with, but probably ruin any relationship we have. I’m just not sure I can be man enough to walk away if she wants to push the limits of our friendship. After what transpired at the photo shoot, I’m pretty sure I’d walk across hot coals to kiss her one more time if that’s what she wanted.

  Luckily, I have Nicholas in the elevator with us to cut some of the tension. Standing in the middle of Briar and me, he looks between us with a knowing expression on his face. He has to feel it; he’d be a fool not to. As he smiles, with the same look, he confirms my suspicions.

  We’re not in the suite for more than ten minutes, all of us sitting around the bar sipping from bottles of water, before Nicholas excuses himself, saying he needs to run out for a little while. Being al
one with Briar is exactly what I don’t want, yet desperately need. All of these conflicting emotions are starting to wear me out. I feel like a man awaiting execution; I really want to enjoy that last meal, but know as soon as I do, it’s over.

  If I proposition Briar and she accepts, it could very well be the end of us.

  When the door clicks closed and Nicholas is on the other side, Briar looks at her bottle of water, then back up at me through her dark, thick lashes. Not saying a word, she leaves the kitchen area and heads toward the bedroom we shared the night before. Stopping at the threshold, she turns her head slightly, catches my eyes with hers and continues through the door.

  As if she’s possessed me, I stand from my stool and slowly move into the bedroom where she’s waiting at the entry way to the en suite. Briar confirms that I see her, standing there, waiting, and walks inside, again with me following close behind. With both of us inside the bathroom, she peels her shirt over her head, never taking her stare away from me.

  Closing the distance, I hold her gaze, grab the waist of her pants and cautiously pull them down her legs. Briar uses her feet to finish removing them and removes my shirt and pants similar to how I did hers. Standing within inches of one another, both of us only wearing our underwear, Briar reaches out and turns on the shower.

  Biting her bottom lip, she slides the straps of her bra down her arms. No longer able to be any further from her, I pull her toward me, finishing the job she started … actually, finishing what I started at the photo shoot. Feeling her bare skin on mine, my body reacts, not willing to be slow and patient. I unclasp her bra, letting it fall onto the heap of our clothing and quickly peel my boxer briefs from my legs.

  Gripping my fingers around the thin, delicate string of her panties, in one motion, I rip them from her body. Gently picking her up, she wraps her legs around my middle, I step both of us into the tub, underneath the spray of the shower. My lips, acting on their own accord, desperate, seek out hers.